Film atlas

The vase still life intervenes between the daughter’s smile and tears, placing change within time’s unchanging form.

The disappearance escapes the logic of a solvable mystery; islands, architecture, and bodily attitudes give duration to the void within relations.

Witnesses search different sheets of the past for Kane; a complete truth remains unactualized.

Bifocal structure: Robbe-Grillet organizes incompatible peaks of the present, while Resnais places characters in coexisting sheets of the past.

Private memory and historical catastrophe remain incommensurable; sound and image place both experiences within one interval, making forgetting temporal structure.

Each expert, forger, director, and narrator passes the tribunal to another. The question becomes whose power can create.

Reality, memory, fantasy, rehearsal, and the film project crystallize together; the unfinished work is both seed and environment absorbing life.

Tableaux vivants, factory labour, and failed production remain unresolved. The film turns theorem into problem and relinks bodies, images, and sounds across intervals.

Voices separate from visible bodies, while image and sound form autonomous series that meet at the edge of an absent event.

The camera withdraws to hold the figure, then advances into a corridor that now belongs to her home. False continuity detaches space from action’s coordinates.

Words, colours, bodies, songs, and quotations form multiple series. Thought is forced in the intervals between them.

Theatre and life, masters and servants, roles and reality nest within one another while retaining a fissure through which escape remains possible: the cracked crystal.

Deleuze explicitly calls it a turning crystal: mother and wife, childhood and present, memory and perception exchange actual and virtual positions.

Memory acquires an actual body on Solaris, forming a circuit with the virtual past. Evidence: a brief adjacent example in Cinema 2.

Reviving the beluga hunt is both action and storytelling. Filming reorganizes communal memory and produces collective utterances that prefigure a people to come.

Cooking, cleaning, waiting, and counting appear in their full duration. Minute disorder first develops in body and ceremony.

Present land and invisible class struggle form strata while sound and visual image retain their boundaries.

Alexis and Perrault become intercessors for one another through the journey to France. The search does not restore a fixed origin; character, filmmaker, and Québec's collective voice change together through storytelling.

Human action leaves the centre; waves, driftwood, moonlight, frogs, and rain become temporal events that must be watched and heard.

The rehearsal mirror first corrects Nina's body, then reflections hesitate, slip out of phase, and even move before she does. The mirror no longer confirms a whole self; it compresses Nina and Lily, White Swan and Black Swan, into one body. Scratches, feathers, toes, and stage transformation are therefore more than illustrations of subjective hallucination: actual and reflected bodies rewrite one another, filming 'becoming the role' as a circuit that produces the performer in return.

Documentary performance training and fictional roles alternate between clarity and opacity; identity shifts continuously through performance.

Caden copies New York inside a warehouse and assigns actors to copy friends, strangers, and himself. Each double demands more rooms, rehearsals, and doubles of doubles. The stage no longer abbreviates life; it expands like a crystalline seed into an environment that reabsorbs marriage, ageing, and death. Sammy first makes a profession of watching Caden and later assumes his role, showing that a copy is not a static image: it changes how the original can next live until neither person nor set retains an outside to which it can return.

The dead, the living, animals, and former lives unfold incompatible times on the same perceptual plane.

The single take turns the Hermitage into traversable sheets of the past, carrying history beyond a linear present.

Factory 420 is being demolished, so the place named by testimony disappears from the image while it is being narrated. Workers and performers including Joan Chen, Lü Liping, and Zhao Tao share the same frontal interview form. The film neither lets professional identity settle truth nor equates performance with deceit; dialect, pause, facial detail, old photographs, popular songs, and demolition dust test one another. Here the power of the false does not abolish history. It forces history to acknowledge that urban memory can only be produced among heterogeneous tellings.

Six bodies generate multiple Dylans through heterogeneous attitudes, voices, and bodily surfaces.

Dictionary, blackboard, command, attitude, and rank assemble bodies into institutional ritual; gestus is a configuration of social relations.

Black stage, white lines, and invisible doors turn setting into a map of thought and reveal space as a relational machine.

City, memory, body, and possible futures interweave; viewing proceeds by reading relations among image strata.

Participants answer, perform, and reorganize their experience, then watch the film together and criticize their screen images. Identity moves among lived position, filmed role, and collective discussion, turning the camera from an investigative tool into a participant in the event.

Montage, intertitles, pauses, and discussion organize projection as political action. Because the film presupposes a revolutionary people available to be addressed, it becomes a decisive comparison for testing the boundary of Deleuze's claim that the people are missing.

Isolated figures question Québec belonging from different positions, turning country into a problem no single representative can close. Disagreement, relay, and transformation form collective utterances directed toward a people to come.

Headlights repeatedly illuminate similar slopes and fountains, yet the suspect can only answer 'not here.' The search accumulates no mastery of the steppe; it releases wind, an apple rolling into a stream, car conversations about illness and family, and the pause produced when the mayor's daughter serves tea. Even after the body is found, transported, and examined, the doctor suppresses a detail that could alter responsibility. Procedure finishes while the event remains unexhausted: the time of death stays among landscape, fatigue, and a judgment left unwritten.

Re-enactment, archive, and absent bodies suspend genocidal time; this is a contemporary time-/death-image analysis advanced by the 2025 issue.

The search should organize Rome as a space of purposeful action, yet it carries father and son through crowds, streets, and encounters that never cohere. When the boy witnesses his father’s failed theft, seeing replaces solution: the character becomes a seer within a situation he can no longer answer.

Six episodes join encounters, mistranslations, and abrupt deaths while withholding transitions that would explain them. Characters enter after a fact has begun and leave before its consequences can be mastered; the inexhaustible before and after of the event presses directly on perception.

Trains and buses deliver the parents to Tokyo without re-forming the family as a community of action. Low viewpoints, abbreviated visits, empty rooms, and smokestacks break the trip into everyday intervals. After the mother’s death, objects and spaces continue, and time appears as the persistence of ordinary life.

Cinema 1 chapter 9 defines S–A–S′ on pp. 141–142. Page 146 directly uses Stagecoach's alternation between coach interior and exterior to explain Ford's Encompasser and treats the circular S–A–S as a first approximation; p. 147 then distinguishes Ford's spiral as S–A–S′, moving toward a new situation. The atlas therefore locates three passages without treating a long shot as proof by itself. Around 00:35:10, the coach is reduced beneath Monument Valley and the sky, proposing rather than proving an encompassing situation. From 01:13:30 to 01:15:20, cross-cutting distributes driver, reins, horses, gunfighters, and passengers across a collective act, giving firmer evidence for A. From 01:33:50 to 01:35:28, Ringo is released and leaves with Dallas in a small cart. That departure may form S′, but it is also a countertest: the film clearly shows Ringo leaving town with Dallas after his release without directly showing whether legal and class positions inside the town are redistributed. Deleuze's criticism on p. 150 of American montage reducing social causes to a personal duel, together with the distinctions among whole mission, local action, and duel on pp. 151–152, sets the textual boundary for asking whether a changed situation for the pair amounts to a changed situation as a whole. The atlas is responsible for the three timecodes and for relating them in this way.

Close-ups strip the courtroom of continuous space, confronting Joan’s eyes, tears, and lips with the judges’ wrinkles. The face ceases to serve action and becomes a surface of intensive variation; fear, faith, and cruelty are perceived directly as qualities.

Village maps, formations, and reconnaissance gather every given condition of defence, then force a higher question: ‘What is a samurai at this historical moment?’ The rain battle secures the village, but burial mounds and peasant song answer that the peasants are the true victors and the samurai have become displaced shadows.

The close-up progressively withdraws the face’s functions of individuation, social role, and communication. Composite half-faces, the twice-told story of motherhood, and burning film detach affect from private psychology and expose the face’s terror before emptiness.

A Paris chase loosens ordinary action; sweets then send the women into a repeatedly staged house story. They move from spectators and doubles to participants who rewrite the plot and rescue the child; bodies, play, and repetition fabricate another route through reality.

Sabzian enters a family as ‘Makhmalbaf,’ and trial footage plus reenactment asks the actual participants to perform themselves. No single judge settles identity as true or false; the camera follows how a lie produces relations, shame, and creative desire.